Ice
by Lily Avalon
Summary: What if the guys were in a gang, and Duo was telling their story? DISCONTINUED, sorry. (I thought it was crap, and really only wrote it as an exercise in Point of View.)
1. Default Chapter

I had just got done putting the finishing touches on myself for the day. Tight black jeans, dark purple muscle shirt, and my old black suede jacket, with my combat boots, braided hair, kohl around my eyes, and even lipgloss.  
  
Oh. And the knife up my sleeve. Let's not forget that.  
  
Heh. I took a long look at myself in the mirror. Simple yet elegant, is what I always say. I blew a kiss to my reflection, cast a withering glare at my schoolbooks, and swept out the door of my bedroom to go meet the guys.  
  
I swayed out into the main living area, where my father was sitting in the only decent piece of furniture we - excuse me, HE - owned, an old but not yet beat up recliner. He was flipping through a porn magazine. I was hoping he'd be too interested in that to notice me, but, alas, I'm not that lucky. I was halfway to the door when he spoke up.  
  
"Fuckin' pansy. Where you goin'?"  
  
I didn't stop. Just kept heading straight for the door.  
  
"No where you care about." I threw over my shoulder.  
  
Suddenly, he was right in front of me. Damn, he is fast. I have no idea how he does it, but he used to brag how he was in the Army, or Navy, or some other shit story like that. Like Ithat's/I gonna' make a person damn fast. Yeah right.  
  
Anyway, I glared at him as he was blocking my way. He was sizing me up and down, some bastard mix of a smirk and a sneer spread across his ugly face. He planted his fists on his hips, his gross expression growing even wider, even as I glared daggers straight into his face.  
  
"Gonna' go fuck your little boyfriend?" he taunted.  
  
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as well as the urge to cross my arms over my chest, both of which I knew he would perceive as a sign of my weakness, as deference to him.  
  
"Yeah." I let a grin start to spread across my lips. "What do you care? Afraid your little boy is all growed up too soon?" I did let a definite mocking tone edge into my voice.  
  
His expression turned into a scowl, and he raised a hand, as if he was gonna' hit me. But he just held it there, as if he was undecided.  
  
I raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise didn't move.  
  
"Get your fuckin' ass outa' here, fuckin' faggot of a son." He turned and sorta' swaggered back to the chair and his magazine. "I'd be damned lucky if you didn't make it back tonight," he muttered. Finally, I did roll my eyes, and continued on my way out of the apartment. I must admit I was surprised that he didn't hit me, he'd never waited like that before.  
  
Heh. Must have charmed the shit out of him. Yeah, right.  
  
I wish our apartment had stairs. I mean, yeah, the building has stairs, but we're dirt-cheap poor and live on the first floor. So it sorta' defeats the purpose to climb the stairs if you have to go back down anyway, if all you want to do is make some stupid grand appearance that no one's gonna' see anyway. Still, I wanted to make that stupid grand appearance at the top of some steps, just to help me forget my father. Gawd, I hated him. So why didn't I leave? No where else to go. None of the guys either want me around or have room for me around. Nope, not even with Heero. Hell, I don't even know if he really loves me, or if he just says that so he can screw me. Not that I wouldn't screw him anyway. Heh.  
  
Yeah, if you haven't figured it out yet, I am gay. Oh, and the name's Duo. Duo Maxwell. 


	2. Ice2

So, there I was, just a-walkin' down the street, like the song. Heh. It was, oh, somewhere around ten o'clock in the morning. It was actually a nice day, sun somewhere behind the smog, but still chilly enough I'd be making good use of that jacket. Or Heero. Heh.  
  
It's always interesting watching the other people out and about their daily business. This time of day, there were only a few desperate crackheads out, and even fewer and more desperate dealers. Mostly regular, law-abiding citizens, like lawyers, doctors, business upper-management. Yeah right. They probably break more laws than I do. Heh. Also, there were some regular people. Soccer moms. Struggling college students. The occasional cop. And a few others just like me, heading down to their own meeting place. It was too early for anyone to really be enforcing territory, and around here it's actually pretty loose, anyway. Especially the shopping districts, where I was at then, because there's so much tourism. That's all a good thing, though. Trust me. Heh.  
  
You know, I've been told that I use the word "heh" too much when I'm writing junk down, and hardly ever in my speech. Imagine that.  
  
I stepped into a small diner that my mother used to work in, before she OD'd. Not that it was any sort of tribute - she couldn't even get off drugs when she was pregnant with me, I'm told. I'm lucky I'm not too messed up, I guess - someone told me I was born with an addiction but somehow the doctors got it fixed, and my eyes are sorta' a funny color. They're mostly blue, but with some "overtones" of purple. Heero says they're sexy, and that each time he looks in my eyes he starts to drown. Hearing him say that makes my belly do a little flip-flop. That's why I line them with kohl, to bring them out and make sure he notices. Heh.  
  
Anyway, I stopped at the diner because I was hungry, and they got great food for cheap. I winked at Esmerita, my favorite waitress, as I sauntered up to the counter.  
  
"Hola, Esmerita! Como esta?" I laughingly shouted over to her. She rolled her eyes at me. See, her parents made a break across the Mexican border, she says, and she was born not too long after they got to this city. Then, she says that her parents tried their hardest not to speak Spanish, but English at their home, so that she'd be able to blend in with everybody. Problem is, she only knows just a bit past the basics of Spanish, because her parents didn't think of the benefits of bilinguality. I mean, I would say she's fluent, but she says that she still has a lot to learn. Anyway, I love to tease her with the little Spanish that iI/i know, because she taught it to me.  
  
"Hola, Du-ito, mijo. Como estas?" she replied in turn. We always asked like that, but otherwise almost always spoke to each other in English.  
  
Esmerita has always been my mother-figure. Even when my real mother was alive, Esmerita was more the one who tried to bring me up. Granted, she had her own brood of kids, most of them all grown and moved away now, so it wasn't as if she could take me home with her, but I'm sure she would have if she could. She's actually the one who suggested to me that I join a gang. She knew all about them, because her younger brother had been involved with a gang and was killed when he was still pretty young, but she still thought that for me, with my drug-addict mother and apathetic and abusive father, that a gang was the best way I'd get a group of people who cared about me and some measure of protection. So I did, and the rest is history.  
  
"Same as always, sweetie!" I grinned at her. She was more than old enough to be my mother, but I still flirted shamelessly with her. I did with everyone. Heh.  
  
"What's on the menu today?" I asked.  
  
"Biscuits and gravy, mijo. Want some coffee?" she answered.  
  
"Yes, please!" I winked and tossed her a cocky salute, then slid onto a stool at the counter. The place was small, but rather nice. Booths along the street windows, bar counter, and the kitchen behind, where you could watch the chef, crazily enough the owner and named Joe, make whatever you ordered, so long as it was on the menu. Joe was actually this rather large guy of Russian descent, and had a French-style handlebar mustache. He had the weirdest sense of humor, but was also usually pretty quiet. I remember my mother once called him a walking paradox, on one of her more lucid days.  
  
She had been pretty smart, my mother. She had a Master's degree in... was it nutrition? I honestly don't remember now. She loved to read, I know, because we had a huge pile of books, on all sorts of things, in the living room of the apartment. Of course, she never read to me. My parents put me through school to the sixth grade, and after that it was up to me. I tried, for a while, but it just wasn't working. I still make an attempt, in that I show up to school often enough they can't disenroll me. I did make an effort to read my mother's books, though. Most of what I know came from those. My mother had most of her old college textbooks, fiction, biographies, recipes, and a whole lot else. I'm probably smarter than all the other kids at school, even if I haven't learned the same material.  
  
When she died, my father sold all of those books, even the ones I'd hidden in my room. I have no idea how much money he got from those books, or from the insurance money, for that matter. I never saw it, and have no idea where it's gone. I don't really care, now, though at the time I was upset because those books had meant the world to me. Now, though, I have the gang, and Esmerita, and Heero. I'll worry about what I need later in life later.  
  
It didn't take too long at all before my breakfast was served up before me. The other two customers in the diner at the time were busy stuffing their faces, so Esmerita leaned up against her side of the counter to chat with me.  
  
"How are things, Duo?" she asked, with true sincerity. She has a nice smile - it always makes me want to open up and tell her everything.  
  
I looked up at her, and I must admit that my mouth was fairly full of food at the moment. I suppose I looked somewhat like a chipmunk, with bulging cheeks, because she laughed at me quite wholeheartedly, despite the serious tone of her question. I got the mouthful down pretty quickly and flashed a grin.  
  
"Really, Esmerita ma'am, it's goin' pretty good. Still enrolled in school, no major fights lately, still with Heero,-" Yeah, she already knew I'm gay "-and he hasn't hit me for over two weeks." She knew that the "he" who hadn't hit me was my father. At the time, I did my level best to deny his existence. Just don't get confused, thinkin' that Heero hit me. Heero never did. Never has.  
  
She sighed, this really cute, motherly sigh that sounded just like what I know she was thinking, that my life is going about as well as it could even though she wishes it could be so much more. She's a really sweet lady. Have I mentioned how much I like her?  
  
"You know you could report him," she said to me.  
  
I shrugged. "No offense, but we've been over this. What would it do? You know he won't listen if they tell him to stop, and if they get up enough nerve to take me out of that place, well, there goes my life as I know it, to be replaced by foster home after foster home."  
  
She sighed again. "Oh, Du-ito, if only-"  
  
I held up my hand. "Nuh-uh, mother-hen. You've been and still iare/i a mom, and you can't take me in. Besides, I'd drive you crazy within a week." I grinned again. "Thanks for the thought, though."  
  
She gave me a sad little smile just as another customer came in. "All right, Duo. You finish your breakfast, and be safe." She stood to get a menu and greet the woman who'd just walked in.  
  
I nodded vigorously. "Yes, ma'am!" Then I continued to dig into my food. Gawd, that Joe can cook! Makes me wonder why he's running such a small place like this.  
  
I finished up rather quickly, and left a couple bills on the counter, enough to cover both the food and a meager tip. I waved goodbye to both Joe and Esmerita, then headed back out into the mid-morning day.  
  
Next stop: the alley where me and the guys met nearly every day. 


	3. Ice3

When was the last time you stopped and really looked at a piece of graffiti? I look at it everyday. Most of the stuff spray painted on walls really is a bunch of crap. Just some deluded kid who thinks that having their name or nickname or symbol or whatever is going to afford them some sense of immortality, or, even worse, some kid who just wants to be a pain in the ass and mess with somebody else's property. However - I love to use that word - there are a very few people who use graffiti as their means of expressing their art. The spray bottle is their medium, and the walls are their canvas.  
  
My buddy Wufei - and yeah, he's Chinese - is like that, except he also uses canned paints and brushes, not just spray paint. He's the same age as me, 16, and he's already a truly terrific artist, even if he sometimes shuts out the rest of the world to focus on his painting. Isn't that what all great painters did? But yeah, even if it's graffiti, it's good. Some guy from the City Department or whatever even managed to track him down and ask if he'd be interested in doing some commission stuff in parks and such. Wufei turned him down flat. The look on the guy's face was priceless. Then Wufei went on to say how his art is for him and his memories and dreams, and he didn't care who else saw it, but he wasn't about to go painting someone else's ideas.  
  
I really do admire the guy. He joined the gang for approximately the same reason I did, some sort of companionship and protection. I can tell, even if he's ignoring the rest of us most of the time, he is glad we're there. But that doesn't mean I don't tease him relentlessly.  
  
He was the only one in the courtyard when I got there. See, there's a ton of alleys in this part of town, but me and Trowa - I'll get to him later - found the only one with a door at the end that leads into a sort of courtyard in between all sorts of buildings on a block. Don't ask me why no one else really knew about it, because I have no idea. But now, it's claimed as ours, and we only let a few others in besides the five of us.  
  
Anyway, like I said, when I got into the courtyard the only other one there was Wufei. As usual, he was painting something on one of the walls. I sauntered over to him and peeked over his shoulder, and saw that he was painting a picture of himself. It wasn't a self-portrait, though. It was a picture of him with bat wings and a halo, with something big and dark, but surrounded with a whitish-bright aura thing, in the background.  
  
"Bad dream?" I asked.  
  
He didn't say anything, but gave a one-shoulder shrug with a small nod. Translation: You could say that.  
  
As I was already behind him, I slid my arms around my waist and started rubbing my hands lightly over his stomach. "Want me to help you forget about it?" I asked softly in his hear.  
  
He actually put down his arm holding the brush and turned in the circle of my arms. He raised an eyebrow at me and I grinned in return, before I leaned forward and gave him a light kiss on his lips. He rolled his eyes and swiped his brush over my nose, then pushed me lightly away.  
  
"Go away, Duo," he muttered. "I don't want to put up with your overtures right now."  
  
"So you will later?" I couldn't help but giggle a little bit.  
  
He smirked. "If you can get someone to distract your keeper long enough."  
  
I laughed, but moved away as he turned again to keep painting. Yeah, I flirt with all the guys, sometimes so much that I get Heero pretty well pissed. But don't you dare call me a slut. Heero's my one and only, and I've never slept with anyone else. That won't stop me from Iacting/I like a slut, though. Heh. All the guys know that, too. We'll fool around, yeah, but we don't take it too far, because we all have actual romantic interests elsewhere.  
  
I watched Wufei paint for a while, then moved over to an old, and supposedly abandoned, doorway off to the left of the entrance into the courtyard. We had an old beat up mini-fridge there, that usually we could keep some cheap refreshments in. I know other people, the crazies that haven't been caught, are in and out of this courtyard, in those small hours when all the sane people are asleep, or at least in a room somewhere. I'm frankly surprised the fridge hasn't been stolen, but occasionally we do end up missing food, so we know it gets raided once in a while. It doesn't seem like any of the others care, and I don't, really, so it's all good. Anyway, I grabbed a soda out of it, then went to go sit and keep watching Wufei paint until the others showed up.  
  
Trowa and Quatre showed up not too long later. I mentioned Trowa earlier - he's about as quiet as Wufei, except that he's watching everyone and everything. He notices a whole bunch of stuff, probably because he's always watching, ya' think? I don't really know too much about him, not even how old he is. But he's cool, and an excellent street fighter. I've only seen three others better than him: Heero, Zechs, and some guy from another gang. I should probably explain about Zechs, and, well, the whole gang. Me, Heero, Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre are a small sub-group of a bigger gang, the Ice. Goofy name, I know. Zechs is the leader of our gang, and Heero, his childhood best friend and only equal as a fighter, is his second-in- command. As a whole gang, the Ice tend to meet outside this one park around nightfall. Our smaller group is comprised of the only gay members in the gang: Me, Heero, Trowa, and Quatre. Interestingly enough, we paired off nice as you please, too. Wufei is straight as a board, but because he's so quiet and, well, kinda' weird, he hangs out with us most often.  
  
And, I suppose, I should move on to Quatre. He's of Arabic descent, he says, but you wouldn't think it by looking at him. He has short blond hair and blue eyes and pale skin, like some English guy, but the shape of his features is more of Arabic, I guess. He's really sweet, and makes me wonder why he's in the gang. He's smart, probably smarter than me, and actually part of a rather prosperous family. My guess is he joined the gang to be closer to Trowa, but he never said. Wanna' know what's really weird about him? I'll tell you, anyway. He has 29 sisters! That's right. I don't want to even Ithink/I how that's possible, but it's true. Blows my mind. Anyway, he's 17, almost exactly a year older than me. We get along pretty well, and he's the relay between Trowa and the rest of us, since Trowa hardly speaks, you know.  
  
I waved when the two of them came in, and Quatre waved back. They exchanged a brief kiss, and to my mild surprise, Trowa turned back around and left. Quatre came in, though, and sat down next to me so that he could also watch Wufei paint.  
  
"Hello, Duo. How have you been?" he asked me. He's always so damn polite! Crazy.  
  
I grinned and slid down against the wall to sit next to him on the ground. "I'm doin' great, Q-man! But, hey, where's Tro going? And, um, how are you?"  
  
Quatre laughed, undoubtedly at me and my manners. I didn't mind though. Despite his being older than me, he makes me feel almost like he's my little brother, and he's really just too all-around cute to really get mad at.  
  
"I am well, thank you. We passed Heero and Zechs on the way down, talking to some guys from another gang - the ones with the red bandanas? They weren't fighting yet, but Trowa wanted to get me here before he went back to help."  
  
I nodded, and a little twinge of anxiety hit me in the stomach, before I could really help it. See, it really Iwas/I too early for gang members to be picking fights, and even if they did, I had no doubts that Heero would not be in serious trouble, especially with Zechs and Trowa to back him up. But, hey, I suppose that when you're in love, you worry about little things like that. Heh.  
  
I took another swig of my soda, before launching into an entirely entertaining and just as entirely forgettable conversation with Quatre. I remember that we had about two periods of introspective silence, exactly eight unrelated instances of intense laughter, and somewhere around twelve times that Wufei felt the urge to comment on something or other. It was great, being able to talk about anything and everything that crossed my mind. Not many people granted me that. Esmerita had a job to do, after all, my father liked me slightly less than the cockroaches living in the bathroom, and all my friends outside of the gang had their own stuff going on, even Hilde since she got an actually steady boyfriend. And yeah, all the guys of the Ice liked me just fine, or I wouldn't be a member, but none of them liked me so much that they'd sit for two hours with me and hold such an inane conversation with me like Quatre was doing. Actually, as a side note, I might mention (as I am doing) that not many members of the Ice knew that the four of us were gay. The few who did didn't care, and I'm pretty sure that most of the others, if they knew, would be a little edgy, certainly, but for the most part leave us alone. Gotta' love open-minded people. Heh.  
  
And yeah, it was actually around two hours later before the door to our little courtyard swung open again, and I could see two shadows moving in. The first face to dissolve itself into clarity was Trowa. I nodded a greeting at him, and noticed Quatre's grin that looked like it was going to split his face in half. Then the next person entered, with a smug almost- smile and a bandage on his hand, a single small hooped earring, messy dark brown hair, tight blue jeans, and a loose green tank top under an old and beat-up denim jacket.  
  
That man was Heero. 


	4. Ice 4

Now, let me give you a little bit of background information on Heero.  
  
First of all, he's MINE. Don't even think about trying to take him for yourself.  
  
Otherwise, he lives with his mom, a nice but tired woman whose grandparents moved here from Japan. Heero's father skipped town not long after he was born, but he's the reason Heero has blue eyes. They're such sexy eyes, too. No wonder I'm in love. Heh.  
  
His mom had to work hard to support herself and Heero, and as an only child, Heero was pretty much left to his own devices. That's why he's so quiet. He's got emotions, obviously, but sometimes he gets stuck on how to express them. He met Zechs in junior high (by the way, they've both graduated high school), and not long after they both joined up in Ice. A couple years later, Zechs had worked his way up to the top, and Heero stayed right beside him the whole way. They're both twenty now. Zechs lives with his girlfriend, and those two lovebirds both actually have steady jobs. Do NOT ask me how Zechs can juggle a job and the gang - it baffles even my mind.  
  
Heero's been working part-time jobs for as long as I've known him. I guess he can't really keep one down for more than a few months because he can't always interact all that well with other people. That, and he has this tendency to be a little... aggressive. Not always a good thing when you have to be doing what your boss says. It is, however, a great little quirk in bed.... ahem. Anyways.  
  
Heero's been saving as much money as he can from each of his jobs, and he's hoping to get his own place somewhere so he's not such a burden on his mom. He loves her dearly, really, and he does everything he can to help her out. He does all the chores at home, to help save her time, so she can rest. He's such a sweetheart.  
  
Well, as the two of them came into the courtyard, Quatre and I stood up to go greet them. I saw Trowa pull Quatre into a hug before I was swooped into a huge, and rather sloppy, kiss. Of course, even though this one was particularly sloppy, Heero is a damned good kisser, so I just melted against him. Good lord, do I love him.  
  
We finally parted, and I was just a bit breathless. I opened my eyes to see Heero looking at me with that same damned smug smirk on his face. It was utterly sexy as hell.  
  
"What happened?" I asked softly, still leaning against him.  
  
He shrugged. "Nothing too big. Some idiot decided to pull a knife and got me on the hand. I kicked his ass. Then Zechs took me to the hospital, he said I needed stitches. So I got them." He shrugged again.  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you smiling at?"  
  
If possible, his smirk did widen into a full blown smile. And, yeah, I know I make it sound like he never smiles. He does, but when we first met, he wore a perpetual frown on his face. It was so irritating to me, I started doing anything I could to get him to smile. It took a few months, almost a year, but I finally got him to crack one. And in the months since that day, it has become more and more common everyday I see him. It was also during that time that we realized we were falling in love. If he had smiled before I met him, then iwe/i may never have happened. Makes me damn glad, in a way, that he grew up so lonely, because now we have the rest of our lives to spend together.  
  
Anyway, he was smiling. I was thoroughly baffled. I mean, yeah, he smiles pretty often now, but this was unusual, both in the amount of time he spent smiling and the itone/i of the smile itself. Confusing. Heh.  
  
"It's just, I was thinking of you, during that fight. I pictured you in a dress at the top of a tower, and I was beating up the witch before I climbed your hair to rescue you." His arms around my waist tightened just a little bit, and he grabbed hold of my braid in one of his hands..  
  
However, both of my eyebrows had now shot themselves up to the top of my forehead. My mouth opened, but I couldn't get anything to come out. Me, in a dress?! He just equated me with Rapunzel, for Christ's sake! Who knew he had such a twisted sense of humor? Well, I did. But even I wasn't expecting that. Heh.  
  
Of course, Heero couldn't resist the temptation of my open mouth with nothing coming out, so he leaned forward and kissed me again. This one was sweet and gentle, and he gently leaned forward so that he had me in a dip. I wrapped my arms around his neck to help hold on, and just accepted it. Great as the moment was, though, that didn't mean reality wasn't going to intrude.  
  
I heard Quatre giggling, somewhere behind me. "So, Heero, what color was his dress?"  
  
I broke the kiss and turned my head to glare at him. That just made Quatre giggle harder. It was infuriating.  
  
"Pink," I heard next to my ear, loud enough for everyone else to hear as well.   
  
I turned back to my lover with an expression of horror on my face, I'm sure of it. "Pink?!" I squeaked out disbelievingly. God, that man has some imagination. I straightened up and pulled away. "How dare you?" I asked in mock anger. "iMe/i, in a ipink dress?/I You're crazy!"  
  
His smile mellowed out a little. "Crazy in love with you," he murmured softly, and took me in his arms again for a gentle hug.  
  
"iAhem,/i gentlemen, I believe that's enough public displays of affection," I heard Quatre behind me. "Remember? It's Wufei's turn to go get the drugs." His voice turned distasteful. He doesn't approve of the use of drugs for recreational purposes. I don't, either, for obvious reasons. But the gang has this innovation, where those who want hits pool their money and someone each has to take a turn to go get the stuff. No one escapes from this duty, but it helps the gang as a whole because it's not so likely for one person to be noticed over and over. Not that I ever bothered to figure out how it helps. I just do it so I can stay in the gang, but I never take part in getting high. It's too gross for me, and reminds me of my mom. I don't want to end up like her.  
  
Wufei and Heero both never tried drugs, for reasons of their own that I don't really pry into. Though I know that with Heero, it's because he never socialized enough to be offered any, and never had the inclination to go get some himself. I'm damn glad about that.  
  
Trowa, however, was a different story. I don't know any details, and don't ask, but since he met Quatre (I think it was love at first sight) he's been working hard to quit the addiction. I think he's almost over it, but I caught him once a little over a week ago smoking a joint. No one's perfect, I guess. At least he's trying, and he has changed quite a bit, in a good way.  
  
Well, anyway, I know I said that the gang has it set up so only one person goes to get the group's drugs. Thing is, if one of the five of us has to go, we generally walk down to the district together, and let the one man do the actual dealing. See, I'm still on the younger side of the people who wander the streets, and I'm pretty short, too. I'm a decent fighter, but if three or more guys decided they didn't like me for some reason, well, I'm screwed. Quatre's in about the same position, so if it's either of our turns, the other guys go with us to help us out if there's a fight. When it's Trowa's turn, we all go for moral support, so he doesn't feel as tempted to dig in before the stuff is delivered. Wufei is a terrific fighter, almost as good as Heero. He's not short, but not tall, and could easily handle himself on the streets. Thing is, he wouldn't. Sometimes he murmurs things about not being strong enough, which is a pile of shit, but he just won't fight anyone. I've seen him do some practice stuff, so that's how I know he can. But, I figure, he's an artist, and a damn good one at that, so he can think and feel and do whatever the hell he wants. We all go with him to make sure he doesn't insult anyone (have I mentioned that he can be a real arrogant SOB?), and if a fight gets picked, which is pretty often, then the rest of us can fight for him.  
  
But Heero... heh. Remember how I said he was the best fighter I'd ever seen? That includes the guys on movies who have all that fancy equipment to help them out. I have absolutely no idea how he learned it, but damn! So, really, if it's his turn to go get the stuff, the rest of us will only go out of habit, because we all go for everyone else. But Heero doesn't need it.  
  
So, yeah, it was Wufei's turn for this crap-ass stupid job that has no real point to it, so of course the rest of us were gonna' go. Now, I know I mentioned earlier that it was too early for street thugs and whatnot to be out wandering around, and I know you're probably recalling that fact. Well, remember, me and Quatre had been talking for almost two hours, so it was about noon now, anyway. Also, we weren't going to some half-ass dealer on the street. No, sir. We had to go all the way up to this guy's apartment to get the stupid drugs. Something that the crackheads of Ice called "quality." Whatever. But it meant that, so long as he was awake, we'd be able to get the stuff. Going at this time of day assured that he'd be at home, not out selling or partying or whatever the hell the guy does. Judging from what I've seen of him, I don't really want to know.  
  
Oh, and I forgot to mention something. The guy is a SICKO. There's always been at least two girls lounging around in his apartment when we go see him. And, he likes to grope my ass. Well, Quatre's too. See what I mean about the other guys coming along to help us out in a fight? I mean, yeah, he's only tried groping, but I have a feeling that if either of us was alone with him, he'd try for something that I'd personally rather not think about. He's got muscle, and yeah, I can fight, but I'm not sure I could take him on. I mean, Jesus, he's like some God-damned world-competition body-builder. Freakin' huge.  
  
Anyway, I utterly despise it when one of us has to go meet the meatball and buy drugs off of him. So you can understand why I growled under my breath at Quatre's reminder. Why does the gang let in crackheads anyways?! Stupid bunch of morons....  
  
Well, anyway, I nodded, and stepped away from Heero. He usually leads the way. That aggressive streak rearing its head - gotta' love it. I saw Wufei reach into his pocket to check the money, and he nodded to himself, meaning that it was all there and accounted for. I also noticed that his painting was done, though it was entirely possible that he'd go back and tweak it later. So how did I know it was done? He'd initialed it. Force of habit, I guess.  
  
I moved over to the doorway, with Heero, and was waiting only a moment before the rest of us grouped up and we headed out the door. The sun was shining bright up in the sky, even though it was still a tad but chilly. I'd be taking off my jacket before we got there, I was sure. What a beautiful day to go encourage the illegal drug industry, don't ya' think? 


End file.
